


Contretemps

by Dedicate Kiwicrocus (cranky__crocus)



Series: SMACKDOWN '11 R2, R3, Final - CIRCLECEST [11]
Category: Emelan - Tamora Pierce
Genre: F/F, Gen, Goldenlake, smackdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-04
Updated: 2011-06-04
Packaged: 2017-10-20 03:29:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cranky__crocus/pseuds/Dedicate%20Kiwicrocus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Briar knew before he hit the floor that he would never live this down</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SMACKDOWN at Goldenlake: fiefgoldenlake.proboards.com
> 
> Mature for later chapter.

Briar knew before he hit the floor that he would never live this down; he could feel the dread in his stomach over even the jolt of falling. Maybe if he hadn’t been so cocky about his climbing abilities… His collision with the floor was a rude awakening.

            Sandry looked up from where she was washing dishes, seeking the source of the crash; Tris did the same from where she was dusting. They saw the source—Briar—at the same time, just before Daja ran in from the privy.

            Briar heard the most terrible sound: laughter. First it was but a trickle, then a stream, a river and…a flood.

            Rosethorn cackled when she entered the kitchen to wash some pots. Lark—even kind Lark—gave a quick giggle as she moved from her bedroom to her workroom.

            “You’re all terrible,” Briar concluded.

            “Maybe. But we can get down the stairs on our feet,” Tris said. Her hand appeared before his face all the same. “Up with you. I’m not taking over your chore because your bottom is sore.”

            “Gee thanks.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knock, her parents had always taught her: any time there is a door and it is closed, knock.

Daja’s face grew hot. Knock, her parents had always taught her: any time there is a door and it is closed, _knock_. She had respected this rule—now suggestion—her entire life. How had she forgotten?

            She closed the door before she had seen much, but she couldn’t erase her mind.

            Daja was going to ask Lark for more cloth linings for her underthings. She had heard movement in the room, which usually meant Lark was in for a moment, and had opened the door…

            To find Rosethorn sitting on the bed with her head thrown back, Lark without a stitch before her, leaning between her legs. Daja had closed the door before she saw the woman’s face.

            She ran from the house, running with all her might until she was at the Hub; she arrived breathless, ashamed at the heat of her body. She sat by the kitchen.

            “Daja?” Briar inquired as he stepped from the kitchen, arms full of biscuits and cakes. He handed one to her. “You look like you just out-ran a cyclone.”

            “More like a forest fire,” Daja corrected, covering her red face. “Do you know where Tris and Sandry are?”

            “Earth temple. Come on, we’ll go have a picnic.” Briar was easy to be around while upset—he always did his best with distractions and humour. Daja nodded and followed him out of the Hub, leaning heavily on her staff.

            Even as Sandry, Tris and Briar bickered over silly domestic things, Daja couldn’t remove the image from her mind.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But now, all she could truthfully say was that she wasn’t wearing clothing.

Sandry thought she could truthfully say, at this point in her life and training, that she was good with clothing. Stylistically, sewing-wise, spinning and weaving and all parts of the process—even with sheep, after her field trip with Lark! Tris trusted her enough to ask for dressing opinions and suggestions; Daja went to Sandry rather than Lark for embroidery and editing. Briar went to Sandry for his formal outfits—and it was only because she and Rosethorn had impressed upon him just how important formal outfits  _were_  at times.

            But now, all she could truthfully say was that she wasn’t  _wearing_  clothing. She plucked up the remaining cloth, all in pieces, and covered herself as best as she could as she ran to Discipline and into her room.

            Lark knocked a moment later. “Sandry…?”

            “Oh, Lark!” Sandry called as she opened the door—dressed now—and threw her arms around her teacher. “Not a stitch on me! Nude as birth! Lark, has this ever happened to  _you?_ ”

            Lark hurried into Sandry’s room and closed the door, sitting them both on the bed.

            “Yes. Absolutely. When I first got together with Rosethorn, she was…” Lark cleared her throat. “She was watering her plants, and she got hot, so she poured the water on herself as well… It was a hot day, and I was invested in the sight, and I willed away my clothing. Its only mistake was obeying.”

            Sandry giggled. “I can see that happening.”

            “Was it…something similar?”

            “It was. That boy I told you about last week, the one Briar threatened to beat if he didn’t treat me right. He was working topless outside the Hub, and I was watching, and then all my clothing was  _gone!_ ”

            Lark held her close. “Tell you what. Call for Daja and Tris. There’s nothing better than some girl talk after something like this.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris was petrified as she gazed down at her book.

Tris was petrified as she gazed down at her book. There were blue splashes all over the pages she had been reading. Oh, what had  _possessed_  her to read while drinking juice?!

            She hurried to Briar’s bedroom. “Briar, can you get stains from paper? I thought, maybe, dried plants…”

            “I can  _try_ , at least,” Briar answered. He followed Tris to the kitchen, where she handed him the book. He drew his hands over the pages, urging the blue stain from the page—it helped that the juice was from fruit and thus plants, as well, hopefully. The juice was insistent on staying…

            “Tris, get Daja and Sandry.”

            Tris nodded and hurried back. When she returned, the two other siblings were in tow. Briar didn’t look up.

            “Daja, can you give this stain a scare by heating the pages? And Sandry, can you urge it into this cloth here?” He held up a scrap of old cloth—one of their cleaning rags.

            Daja placed her hand, covered in living brass, over the crease of the book; she spread heat over the area. Sandry sang to the stain through the cloth, making each thread as enticing as she could manage. Briar pulled at it with his power.

            The stain jumped from the book to the cloth and Briar’s hand, marking both with blue. He lifted up his hand and grinned. “Accomplished.”

            “Thank you, Briar; Niko would have had my head for that.”

            “I can’t believe you defiled a book,” Sandry teased, smiling.

            Tris turned beet red and covered her face with her hand. Her palm slapped her forehead. “I can’t either. I’ve never been so embarrassed.”

            “I have,” the other three stated at once. They glanced to each other and smiled. Briar rested his elbow on Tris’ shoulder. “Remember that time I fell down the stairs? Even though I climb so well? Or Daja’s lapse when she saw Lark and Rosethorn together…”

            “Or when I lost all my clothes!” Sandry added, laughing. “At least you fixed yours. Niko will never know.”

            “Never know what?”

            Drat Niko and his timing. Tris wilted on the spot.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! C: Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
